It was 1989, my thoughts were short my hair was long
Caught somewhere between a boy and man
She was seventeen and she was far from in-between
It was summertime in Northern Michigan…
– Kid Rock
A friend recently waxed nostalgic about the good old days. To him that was hot, sweaty sex under a fan in college apartments.
And that got me to thinking about my good old days at my university on the beach where I never went home even during Summer.
Today, I was bored while tumbling and completing my continuing professional education. Halfway through learning about the effect of the Tax Cuts and Job Act of 2017 on deferred tax assets and the new leasing standard, I started to allow my mind to wander.
Back to days when there were impromptu booty calls in my life. Summertime, afternoon sex under the apartment fan. Scheduled via handwritten note or landlines as I grew up in the era of no texts or emails.
Having to work it in around times where roommates weren’t home as you didn’t want anyone to hear those “oh gods” and “fuck me, yes there fuck me” that you tried to mutter into the person’s neck but got louder as I was ready to cum.
The condoms in the bedside drawer, always within arms reach. Body on body as no one had the luxury of a king size bed.
The kissing, the heavy breathing, the sweat and the fingers that you just wanted to feel every part of you and especially inside you. If you were lucky, he knew where your clit was and there was the point where you became putty and just wanted his cock.
This wasn’t drunk, sloppy sex (well not usually). This was purposeful afternoon sex where you both wanted to get off and if you got it right you could ride for a long while getting certain spots hit just right repeatedly. Cumming in the middle of the day.
But then the shrill barista at the Starbucks announced a mobile order and I was back to my reality…
– The Girl